What the hell was she doing here? He was wrapped around her like a vine, holding her to him, tucked against him, and he had managed to sleep through this for how long?
She moved against him then, her hips shifting as she rode the thick length of his c**k against her clit.
Damn. Damn.
He felt his hand clench her hip, then relax. Did he want her to stop or to continue? Would she find her pleasure in her sleep as he watched?
His hand smoothed over her hip and down the curve of her ass to her thigh.
“Anya.” He swallowed tightly as he felt her move against him again.
He barely remembered awakening several times, moving to the bathroom or forcing himself to eat before collapsing again. He didn’t remember her being here at those times. He remembered the chill in his bones and the need for sleep or for water or food. He would have surely known if she had been in his bed.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Forty-eight hours since he had first returned to Base and collapsed in the bed.
His teeth snapped together as she moved again, spreading her slick, hot cream along the painfully engorged shaft it cuddled. Damn her. Damn the heat. Damn his weakness.
Her thigh lifted along his, the side of her knee rubbing at his hip as she opened herself farther to him and rubbed her swollen, hard-tipped br**sts against his chest.
Hell. He was supposed to control his lust in the face of this temptation and the mating heat combined? Was he supposed to be f**king made of steel?
Well, except his cock. It felt hard as steel and as hot as newly formed iron.
“Anya, wake up,” he groaned, hearing the growl in his voice.
She rubbed against him again, her hips tilting until the swollen bud of her clit was in direct contact and the fiery heat of it threatened to blister him.
Sweet merciful heaven. He held her hip, but was he smart enough to ease her back? Hell no, he was moving her, encouraging her to ride him, to stroke the brutal length of his dick as she gave herself pleasure.
“Wake up.” He lowered his head and nipped at her lip. “Damn you, do you expect me to be strong enough to simply walk away?”
Her tongue peeked out, swiped over the area he had nipped, as her lashes lifted and sleepy, aroused sapphire gems stared back at him.
“Watch the teeth,” she muttered as her lashes lowered and an expression of sublime pleasure filled her face.
Her hips rolled again as a little moan broke past her lips and the silky flesh of that perfect little pu**y rode his dick again.
“Anya. Move,” he growled.
And oh how she moved. With a slow, wicked roll of her hips that had the head of his c**k pushing against her entrance before it slid in her creamy juices and only glanced it.
This was torture. It was agony. No hell he had endured could come close to the hell of being this close and knowing he couldn’t take what awaited just within reach.
He was sweating. Del-Rey could feel the sweat building on his flesh, but he was too dick-dumb to pull away from her. If she wanted to ride him to her own release, then slip back into sleep, God knew, he’d try to give it to her. But he knew he didn’t have the control to sustain that patience in the face of a hunger that ate into him like acid. It cramped his balls, his abdomen. He swore it was setting fire to his brain as he felt the hormone attributed to mating rushing through his system.
The glands beneath his tongue were torturously swollen; the need to release the hormone into her system was damned near killing him.
“Del-Rey.” Her lashes lifted again. Gem-bright, her eyes stared back at him. “If you tease me one more time, I might have to kill you.”
“Tease you?” he groaned.
“You’ve teased me for two days.” She shifted again, rode his c**k and then paused as she had the engorged head lined up against the entrance to the sweetness beyond.
“How have I teased you?” he muttered.
“Your lips all over me, but never enough. Then you tuck your c**k between my legs and just sleep. That’s torture, Del-Rey. The worst kind. I bet its punishable or something. Should I take your allowance?”
He’d done this? In his sleep, without taking her?